


little sins

by rachhell



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Craig, Drabble Collection, Drunk Sex, First Time, Light Dom/sub, M/M, One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sneaking Around, Top Tweek Tweak, craig is a silly drunk, handjobs, laughing during sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachhell/pseuds/rachhell
Summary: Collection of NSFW tumblr prompts and requests.Pairings/tags to be added as more are written.





	1. you weren't supposed to laugh! (creek)

**Author's Note:**

> "You weren't supposed to laugh!" - prompt requested by @pbjellieao3

Tweek was on top of him, his forehead, sweaty and hot, resting on Craig’s collarbone as his body convulsed. Still inside him, but no longer thrusting, his hands were underneath Craig, gripping his flat, somewhat bony ass hard enough to leave bruises, lifting his hips for leverage, to fuck him as hard as he begged him to. Eyes screwed up tight, watering at the corners, he shook with giggles while Craig scoffed hard enough to make Tweek’s hair move.

“You weren’t supposed to laugh,” Craig said.

“You called -  _ pfft. _ ” Tweek chewed on his lip, trying to hold back more laughter. “You called me  _ Sir.”  _ He kissed Craig’s neck, softly, before another short wave of laughter overtook him. Craig did not seem particularly pleased, but hadn’t called the word, so Tweek hadn’t stopped, even after he was brought into near-hysterics by what Craig had said.

“Well what the hell else am I supposed to call you! Given the circumstances.” He pulled on the rope that wrapped around his wrists and held him to the bed, for emphasis. “I don’t understand why it’s so funny.”

_ “Thank you, Sir,”  _ Tweek mocked, lowering his voice into a nasally monotone, “It’s just, ah, it’s just like how you said it, man! I’m sorry! It’s  _ funny. _ ”

Craig glowered. “My voice is funny. You think my  _ voice _ is funny.”

“Agh! That is  _ not _ what I meant.” Tweek lifted himself up to his hands to hover over Craig with his hair hanging around his face, brushing against Craig’s forehead. His lips were swollen and red from all their forceful, intense kisses, from all of the sucking and biting he’d been doing on Craig’s neck, hipbones, chest which would, if Craig had it his way, leave him sore and covered in marks, and he ducked his head down for just one second, hovering his mouth above Craig’s, and pulling away just in time, before they could make contact. Craig whimpered. “It just, jesus, okay, it’s hot but it’s just so, ahhh… formal? I, I mean, it reminds me of like some kind of lame movie that like, ah, middle-aged housewives would be into l-like that fifty shades bullshit and-”

“Tweek. Drop it, okay? Shut the fuck up and fuck me,” Craig said flatly. He snuck a leg around Tweek so his foot was pressed against his ass, only to give it a small kick and laugh a little, himself.

Tweek’s hips twitched but a fraction, and he grinned at the man beneath him. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please.” Craig’s lips twitched into a smirk, and he lifted his eyebrow. “... _ Sir, _ ” he added, sarcastically.

Tweek couldn’t help the bark of laughter he emitted. “Just, god, okay. Just give me a second.” He kissed Craig on the forehead, ruffled his hair, and, after placing one hand around his neck - not squeezing, but just holding him there - and one wrapped around his lower back, he began to move again.

Their lips locked, kissing deep and frantic, all tongues and teeth, as Tweek found his pace again. The way Craig was moaning into his mouth, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Tweek, locking him in, was as sexy and wonderful as it always was. Tweek pulled away, and worried Craig’s earlobe between his teeth, for a second.

“Good boy,” he whispered, and kissed him on the forehead again.

Craig smiled, with a shudder, and then chuckled. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied, seeming to make a point to moan it as exaggeratedly and dramatically as he could. 

Tweek laughed mid-moan. “ _ Ahh _ , god you’re such a little fucking  _ brat,” _ he said, jerking his hips, thrusting into Craig as hard as he could with each word.

“I  _ knoooow,  _ Sir,” Craig drawled, all sarcastic and melodramatic, although his chest was heaving, and his hands were wrapped around taut rope, and his eyes rolled into his head for but a moment, his toes curling against the back of Tweek’s thighs.

“I’m going - ah  _ fuck -  _ I’m going to s-stop if you say that shit again and leave you here,” Tweek gasped what they both knew was an empty threat, his breath against Craig’s ear causing shivers up and down his body. “Do I…” He moaned, in earnest, and licked a line from Craig’s ear to the base of his neck, the hand fastened around it having dragged down his boyfriend’s chest to pinch a nipple. “Do I have to fucking gag you next time?”

“Oh  _ fuck,”  _ Craig moaned, all pretense of sarcasm, all intentions of annoying his boyfriend or trying to make him laugh again clearly out the window as he panted, open-mouthed, body twitching. “Please.”

He could feel Tweek’s smile against his shoulder. “Please  _ what?” _

“Please, Sir,” he whispered.

With a tiny growl - a noise that Craig always thought was completely adorable, even if he was being dominated - Tweek increased his thrusts into a pounding, erratic rhythm, and, teeth digging into Craig’s shoulder to muffle his moans, he came.


	2. craig, don't be rude.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _kittyfacelawl asked:_   
>  _Hehehe I got a writing prompt for ya, if you’re interested. Tweek and Craig are at Craig’s parents’ house when they sneak into the bathroom to fuck. Well while Tweek is balls deep in Craig Laura knocks on the door and asks if everything is ok since he’s been in there forever. Tweek is a little shit and is like “what’s wrong Craig? Answer your mother” all while still pounding into him and Craig can barely talk and has to hide it from his mom. I felt really dirty writing that XD_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took one liberty - they're in Craig's bedroom (well, his old bedroom turned guest-room), not the bathroom, but here we are.

The Tucker household was bustling with traffic, various cousins, aunts, grandparents coming in and out like it had a revolving door. Cinnamon and vanilla scents of freshly-baked cookies and the earthy pine smell of the shedding Christmas tree in the corner permeated the air. Craig relaxed on the couch, Tricia next to him, playing on her phone, and drained his third full glass of Riesling.

He had drank a pretty decent amount of wine, waiting for his boyfriend to come back to the house after stopping at his grandmother’s - Tweek had zero interest in Craig joining him on that endeavor, saying something about her being a homophobic old bat, and that his visit would be short and sweet, merely a formality since she was probably going to die soon. As Craig stared at some sentimental made-for-TV movie about a little girl and her reindeer friends after filling his fourth glass, which would make his second bottle, to the rim, he was getting a little stir crazy. He missed Tweek. While he loved his family, and was happy to be home for Christmas, he was getting pretty damn drunk, pretty damn quickly, and he missed Tweek.

Besides, the thing about being wine-tipsy was how incredibly _horny_ it made him. He shut one eye as he opened up iMessage, figuring it might help him to type better, or see better, or something.

 _Where you,_ he tapped out, and sent it to Tweek.

Three dots appeared on his phone, and then a message. _Just leaving g-ma’s about to get into the car. It was a VERY PLEASANT visit jk_

 _Lol_  
_I wanna fjd_  
_Fuck  
You dtf?_

Shortly after, his phone vibrated again. _DTF seriously? Are you drunk???_

 _Maybe,_ he typed back.

_Omg. wtf craig._

A couple minutes passed, before his phone went off again. _I mean, maybe.  
_ _How are we supposed to do that in a house full of people tho_

 _Come it hrhe my window meet me in fje_  
_The bed_  
_My bedroom_  
_Ima get mysef open and ready for u  
tO Rail my ass ljke you own it babe_

 _WHAT. Are you fucking serious???_ Craig snorted to himself, able to practically hear Tweek’s frantic screeching even through text. He knew, though, that as much as Tweek would freak out and say things to the contrary, that he was down - that he got off on the risk, perhaps even more than Craig did.

 _I’m dead srs  
_ _Sooooo srs baby come baaaack lol_

Tweek didn’t reply, but Craig staggered upstairs anyway, wine in hand, mumbling something to Tricia about needing to use the bathroom. Tricia simply shot him a sidelong glance, barely raising her face from the new iPhone she’d received for Christmas. She was probably texting  some dude, or chick, or whoever the hell she was screwing around with these days at college. Whatever. His wine sloshed over the rim of his glass, just a little bit, as he ascended the stairs.

Once he reached his old bedroom, he locked the door and plopped onto the bed, wine secured on his nightstand, and unzipped his pants. Shucking them off, followed by his boxers, and then his sweater, all the various clothing items ending up haphazardly thrown into different corners of the room, he spat on his hand, and began to stroke himself. It took a bit to bring his erection to full-mast, stupid wine, so, with his other hand, he sucked on his fingers, and spread his legs open. He let out a small moan and licked his lips as he slid his hand up and down the crack of his ass, and pressed against his entrance. They’d fucked last night, in that very same bed, and again that morning, rushed and quiet, Craig bent over the side of the bed with Tweek’s hand pressed firmly against his mouth to keep him from crying out, his boyfriend whispering, _“Merry Christmas, I love you Craig,”_ into his ear before he spilled himself all over his back; so, Craig was still a little loose, still relaxed. He slid a finger in, and bucked into the hand fisted around his cock with a hiss. Hopefully Tweek would actually _do_ it. He wanted him there, _needed_ it.

A dick pic seemed like a _real_ good idea. When was the last time he’d sent Tweek a dick pic? He snapped a blurry picture of his hand wrapped tight around his length, making sure to angle the phone upward so that his abs and chest were as visible as he could make them, and captioned it _upstairs and waiting for u my bby._ No sooner was it marked opened on Snapchat than a tapping sounded at his window. Tweek glared at him from through the glass. “Let me in, asshole,” he said, voice muffled. Craig did, crossing the room as naked as the day he was born, and reaching out his arm to pull Tweek through the window. He used too much leverage, and they landed upon the floor in a heap of limbs.

“Ow,” Tweek groaned. “What the shit, Craig? Dick snaps?” Craig simply laughed, and climbed back onto the bed to lay down, waiting, trying to look sexy but looking like a drunken fool - a drunken _sexy_ fool - as Tweek rose to his feet and removed his coat. “It took me like… four tries to get up the house. Jesus! It’s, ah, it’s n-not as easy as when we were younger.”

“Want some wine?” Craig grinned at him, picking up the glass and brandishing it toward Tweek. He took it, downing the entire thing in just a few gulps, and, after slamming it back onto the nightstand with a loud clang, he began deliberately unbuttoning his shirt. “Grab the _lube_ for me, baby,” Craig crooned, making a big, ridiculous show out of spreading his legs out once again, this time for Tweek, whose eyebrow cocked in a smirk as he licked his lips and scanned his eyes up and down Craig’s body.

“I… I can’t fucking believe you sometimes, man. It feels like we’re teenagers again or something.” Tweek tossed his shirt across the room, fiddled with his belt with his typically shaky hands, and, once he was also fully nude, cock half-hard, fished around in their toiletry bag, returning with an almost-empty bottle. “Turn around,” he snapped.

 _“Nooo_ ,” Craig protested in a whine, wrapping his hand around his cock again, “I wanna _see_ you. Wanna see your pretty face - it’s _Christmas._ ”

The roll of Tweek’s eyes was a sham - he wasn’t frustrated, or cringing at his boyfriend’s silly, horny, drunk self - he was smiling, and he leaned down to plant a kiss on Craig’s lips. Craig deepened it right away, tasting like alcohol and using too much tongue, his hands twisting into Tweek’s wild hair. And he was on top of Craig, their lengths pressed and rubbing together as they circled their hips, frantically, as if they both knew that they were doing something scandalous and sneaky that was sure to be interrupted at any time. “You’re gonna ride me if you want to see my face,” he whispered. He’d squirted a fairly generous amount of the remaining lubricant into his hand, first slathering a bit onto his shaft, then reaching between Craig’s open legs to massage it against him. He slipped in one, then two fingers like it was hardly anything, before he lay on his back, motioning for Craig to get on top.

“Be quiet,” Tweek warned, peppering tiny kisses onto Craig’s outstretched wrist, their hands twining together. Craig had moaned out loud once already, and he’d only just entered him. “You _have_ to be, ah, quiet, orI’llstop oh _fuck_ ,” he whispered, the words tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he could process as Craig sank lower and he was buried to the hilt. They moved against each other, first in small, tentative rocking motions as both tried to keep silent; then, after awhile, they found a rhythm, and their mouths found each other again, any mewls or moans or whimpers muffled against each others’ lips and tongue.

It was only a sudden rapping upon the bedroom door, soft at first, then increasing in volume and intensity that jerked their faces away from each other, and toward the offending sound.

“Shit.” Craig rose, upright. For a moment, it seemed like he was close to scrambling across the room, and therefore off Tweek’s dick, but he took a deep breath, and stayed there. He even wiggled his ass, just a little bit, causing Tweek to bite his lip.

“Craig?” Laura’s voice was clear as day.

Craig and Tweek’s eyes locked in mutual panic. “Shh. Don’t say anything. She’ll think I’m passed out,” Craig whispered to Tweek, who narrowed his eyes, and, with a smirk, pulled Craig into him, so they were chest-to-chest. He gripped his ass, and moved his pelvis in a few rough, jerking thrusts. “Seriously?” Craig whispered, again, screwing up his eyes. His face was hot against Tweek’s neck.

“I’m not gonna stop,” Tweek replied, low and coarse.

His doorknob rattled. “Craig? Why is your door locked?”

His eyes flew open in shock. “Uh!” He shouted out. “Not feeling good!” True to his word, Tweek didn’t stop. Rather, he went harder than ever, and Craig had to grit his teeth to keep from moaning.

“Will you be able to come downstairs soon? Red and Kevin are stopping by!” she singsonged. “Dad went down to the liquor store to grab some Rumchata for Trish.”

Underneath him, Tweek’s eyes flashed. He grinned, radiant yet mischievous and, god, _sadistic_ . He dug his fingers into Craig’s back, and raked his short, but sharp nails up and down before settling his hands on Craig’s hips, rocking his body back and forth as he kept thrusting upwards, grinding into Craig in that way he knew hit _just_ the right spot.

 _“Oh GOD,_ ” Craig cried out, blushing. He slapped his own palm over his mouth when Tweek settled his hands on either side of his ass to spread his cheeks, gripping and kneading and scratching into them.

“Craig?” Another rattle. “Are you ok, sweetie?”

“Answer your mother, Craig,” Tweek hissed, just soft enough for Craig to hear, and bit his neck. Craig’s mouth hung open, slack, taking in small, shuddering breaths and emitting tiny whimpers beneath his hand. He shook his head back and forth in a desperate _no._

Tweek laughed through his nose. “I told you to answer her.” His mouth traveled from ear to neck to shoulder with sharp, hard bites. “Do it,” he snarled, gentle yet forceful, and very low, “Don’t be _rude_ , Craig.”

“Ma- _haaa…_ Mom, just a minute! I think I just-” Tweek pulled his hair, and sild his other hand between their bodies to thumb the sensitive, leaking head of his erect cock. “Oh _fuck_ , Tw-aahhh, ha, I, god, I... drank too much?”

It was as if both men could see her eyes rolling and her middle finger sticking up, even through the opaque, solid wood door. “Fine, Craig. Sleep it off.” He tossed his hand back over his mouth, and let Tweek keep fucking him, holding back any sounds as best as he could until her footfall was far enough away that neither could hear.

When he was hopeful that she was out of earshot, he propped himself up on his hands, and glared at his boyfriend - which was, admittedly, a bit difficult to do when said boyfriend’s dick was balls-deep inside of him, grinding against his prostate, and his hand was firmly wrapped around his cock. “What the _fuck,_ you - _oh_ my god don’t stop.” Any protestations Craig were about to make were silenced by Tweek doing that _thing_ with his tongue, around the shell of his ear, that drove him fucking crazy every time. “Babe, you… _God,_ ” He kissed his boyfriend on the mouth, leading with his tongue right away.

They pulled away from each other after deepening the kiss and roaming their hands on each others’ bodies, panting and shaking. “Turn around,” Tweek said in a hoarse murmur, and slapped Craig’s ass, probably loud enough that anyone in the hallway could hear. Craig could only pray that his mother was already downstairs and didn’t have to hear that, or the impassioned whining noise it elicited from him. Part of his mind, however, didn’t even give a fuck anymore, and he groaned a little bit too loudly while he had to extract himself off of Tweek’s cock to reposition his body, hands gripping the headboard, face on the pillow and ass in the air.

“I told you,” Tweek smacked him again, lightly this time, first on one cheek, then the other, “To, _j-jesus,_ to be _quiet.”_

Craig glanced at him, heavy-lidded and sultry, from over his shoulder. “Just fuck me up. Slap it harder,” he spat in a soft mutter.

Tweek unleashed a small, somewhat squeaky growl, and brought his open palm down harder. The smack pierced the air, echoing off the walls, and Craig shuddered. “ _Gah_ , god you’re such a freak when you’re drunk, I love it.”

They had to pretend Craig wasn’t moaning his lungs out while Tweek slammed into him, the pillow doing a piss-poor job of masking the sounds, that the headboard wasn’t banging against the wall with every thrust, that at least _one_ person downstairs didn’t hear and know exactly what they were doing. It didn’t take much longer for Tweek to bring himself over the edge, spilling into Craig with a louder cry than he’d ever wanted to make, Craig following suit soon after, all over Tweek’s hand and the sheets.

“Damn it,” Craig groaned, after Tweek extracted himself, and stood, “I’m gonna have to deal with your cum in my ass all Christmas.”

“Heh. Well. That was fun,” Tweek said, with a chuckle. Craig just glared at him. “It was _your_ idea, Craig.”

“Psh,” Craig snorted. They dressed in silence, and gave each other a short kiss before taking a deep, synchronized breath, and making their way down the hallway to the stairwell. “Huh. I’m still _kiiinda_ drunk,” Craig  observed, more to himself than anyone else, causing Tweek to giggle a bit.

Craig was the first to crane his neck around the bannister to check and see if his mother was in the dining room. She was not, but it was, however, plain as day that Tricia saw them both - heard them, really, before she _saw_ them, due to that damn squeaky step. Her grin was positively devilish. “Why _hello_ dear brother of mine and his LOVING BOYFRIEND,” she enunciated in an exaggerated lilt. “Oh, mother! Look _who_ is _back.”_ She flipped Craig off. He did the same, and, head hung in shame, he descended the steps with Tweek’s hand in his own.

Craig’s mom came out of the kitchen, sipping on her own glass of wine, and wiping her free hand on her skirt. “Aw, hey Tweek!” Laura’s smile was too wide, too knowing. “When did you get back?”

They looked at each other, trying to think of a plausible explanation. Tweek’s fingers dug into Craig’s palm, and he cleared his throat. “You, uh. You didn’t notice Tweek come back? Wooooow, mom, you’re going senile,” Craig half-slurred, rubbing the back of his neck. Tricia scoffed from the sofa. Red and Kevin, having arrived who knew when, were cuddling on the other end. “Yeah. Uh. I want more wine,” he said, and uncorked another bottle. His second bottle from before was mysteriously missing. “What??” He snapped at his mom, who was glaring at him with crossed arms and pursed lips. “S’Christmas! Tweeky baby, want some wine?”

“O-okay. Thank you, Craig.” Tweek was blushing, stammering, and avoiding Laura’s eyes. “H-hey, Laura, I agh, god! I just got here, uh. Um. A little bit ago? I guess you were in the kitchen, maybe? _Gah!_ ”

“Mmhmm,” she said, with an arch of her eyebrow. “We’re about to watch Christmas Story.” She crossed into the living room, perching on a chair and motioning for Craig and Tweek to come join the others.

“Red. Howsssss… Things.” After thrusting two full wine glasses into Tweek’s hands, Craig plopped himself on the couch, purposely knocking his elbow into Tricia, and patted Red’s very pregnant stomach. “Hello, little baby Stoley,” he said to her belly, grinning.

“Nice hickey, skank,” his sister whispered into his ear. Craig flipped her off again, subtly, against his leg.

Red, hopefully not hearing Tricia, laughed, and pulled Craig into a hug. Her knuckles dug into his head, giving him a noogie. “How’s it going, cuz? Tweek?” She tilted her head. “That’s funny, I didn’t see you come in, either.”

“Yeah, y’know, you’re right,” mused Kevin, “We’ve been sitting here for a while and didn’t even notice the door open. When _did_ you get here, Tweek?”

“He came in through the window like a high schooler. Craig’s wasted on nasty white wine and him and Tweek were upstairs fucking and yes, Tweek, we all heard you slapping my brothers ass; don’t look so scandalized,” droned Tricia, before either man could answer. “Merry Christmas, everybody.”


	3. craig, may i touch your penis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their elementary school lesson on consent becomes an inside joke, until one day, it finally isn't. Three times they joke about it, and one time Tweek actually does it.
> 
> Alternately, Top!Tweek: Origins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _metroph0bic asked:_   
>  _random HC: When they're like 12 Tweek immaturely texts Craig out of the blue with "can I touch ur penis" just to see if it pisses him off. Craig responds with "WTF!!!! NO U MAY NOT" and Tweek decides it's really fucking funny so this becomes a stupid inside joke with them over the years. Then one day, when they're 16, Craig's response is simply "Ok" and Tweek loses his shit. It is Craig's Ultimate Revenge. Then Tweek gets *him* back by grabbing it next time they make out and the rest is history._
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> THANK YOU, METRO, SO, SO MUCH for allowing me to turn your wonderful headcanon into a story!

**_twelve_ **

 

hey  
Craig i have a question  
can I touch ur penis

Tweek WTF  
NO YOU MAY NOT!!!!

 

Hahahahaha u ewwmemver that??  
Remember

 

lol I remember  
ur  kidding right??

YES  
Wtf yes totally

 

Omg good  
I thought u were serious :O :O

  
No way dude I’m not ready for th hat it s too much pressure!!!!!  
That

 

Im also not ready for that  
I like kissing you  
But no you may not touch my penis

:) haha  
I like that too

 

* * *

 

**_fourteen_ **

Can you believe pc principal followed us to high school?  
What is his deal?  
Like  
He has to keep tabs on the same kids??  
Can’t he find a new generation to terrorize

LOL right?????  
Omg this is going to such  
Suck  
I’m so nervous ahhh

Relax babe  
You’ll do great

  
They never cast freshmen in the three-act!  
Wtf an I DOING I should just go home!!!  
I’m next!!!??!?  
What do I do I’m next

Deep breaths ok?  
I wish I was there to give you a hug  
You’re talented and I believe in you

Okokokok  
I wish u were here too  
Good luck kiss???

Good luck kiss babe  
Break a leg  
Wanna come over after

Yea  
Think your dad would order us pizza?

Probably yeah

  
Can we watch a movie in your room?

  
Yeah if my mom is ok with that  
You know they’re getting weird about it

  
Can  
Can I  
CAn I touch

TWEEK lol  
Don’t even

Craig  
Can I touch….

No  
UNSUBSCRIBE

  
UR PENIS

 

Fuuuuck offf

  
Ur P E N I S Craig

  
I changed my mind you’re definitely going to suck

 

O.o  
WHAAAAAT

  
NO WAIT omg

 

???????  
Craig  
What!!

  
OMG  
AT THE AUDITION suck at the audition  
Omg kill me

  
Hahahahaha  
ReLly? :(  
Really sorry can’t type too nervous

  
Phrasing godddddd  
NO I’m kidding you’ll be AWESOME <3

  
Shit ok I’m up  
ahhhhhhhhhhhh  
See u in like an hour

  
<3

* * *

 

**_sixteen_ **

 

Babe can you help me with this essay tonight?  
You understand this Shakespeare shit way better than me

  
Yeah of course <3  
Your house?

  
Yeah and you can stay over if you want  
My parents are gone

  
Really where???

  
Some work party in Denver  
I’m supposed to watch Trish lol but she just like locks herself in her room  
She doesn’t even need a babysitter

  
I’ll stay over ;)

  
Heh ok  
Cool ;)

  
Hey Craig just one question tho

  
Whats up

  
Can I touch your penis?

  
Yeah ok

????

  
Yes you may touch my penis

  
Lol Craig stop it

 

You may touch it  
I am comfortable with that

  
Lol what???!  
Are u even joking???

  
I dunno...  
Are you?

Idk

Hmm well idk either  
See you tonight

* * *

 

“Have you noticed that sometimes when you smile your lip gets caught on your braces?” Tweek blurts out, lifting his head for but a moment from his notebook. Although he snaps his head back down, a twitch wracking through his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows, nervous, like he’s afraid he said something wrong, his eyes are narrowed in a sidelong glance, one that is both delicate and somehow so, so predatory, cast directly at, _into_ Craig. He jiggles his leg, and his knuckles are white with how hard he grips his pen.

Craig shoots him a glare - quick and sharp, but his eyes linger, too; he _knows_ they do, but it’s not like he can _help_ it or anything, because Tweek is two feet away from him and he can smell coffee and cigarettes and that expensive cologne he boosted from the mall, and whatever that earthy-pine smell of home and comfort and _something_ is that follows Tweek everywhere. That sexy-boy smell has been starting to drive Craig absolutely insane whenever he curls up against Tweek, or kisses him goodbye, or _especially_ when they make out until Tweek’s face is rubbed raw from Craig’s patchy stubble, as they grind and rut against each other through far, _far_ too many layers of clothing until frustration or trepidation or, as rare and startling and special as it is, _release_ causes one or the other to stop. _Always_ then.

And now, the sleeves of Tweek’s flannel are rolled up _just_ right; his forearms are sinewy and freckled and covered in downy blond hair, and lead down to thin wrists and those strong, spindly piano-player hands that Craig wants _on_ him, everywhere. His hair is tied up in a messy half-bun, leaving his neck - so long and elegant and god, _gorgeous -_ exposed, and all Craig can think of doing is slamming his laptop shut and licking up and down that line of muscle that twitches whenever Tweek swallows or grinds his teeth.

 _Have you noticed how fucking sexy you are? Have you noticed how goddamn obvious it is that I want you?_ Craig thinks of saying back, but instead he clears his throat, bites the inside of his cheek, and flips to one of the pages he tabbed with a construction-cone-orange sticker. “Uh. Okay. ‘“His madness is poor Hamlet’s enemy,” explain.’ What the-”

“It’s just, um, it’s just kinda hot?” Tweek drums his pen against the particleboard of Craig’s desk in what he recognizes as a snippet of the marching band cadence, leg bouncing up and down, faster yet, and knits his brow, just a little - to anyone else, it would be barely perceptible but Craig knows, always notices even the minute signs of anxiety that Tweek has worked so hard to control and hide. It makes him feel proud, loved, even, that this strange and wonderful and oh so beautiful person has chosen to let _him,_ boring, unremarkable Craig, into his world.

His stomach does a flip, but Craig snorts anyway. “The braces I got four years later than, like, everyone else are hot?” Tweek drops his pen. It rolls under the desk, somewhere, forgotten, and he makes no move to retrieve it. Rather, he is fixated on Craig’s face - his mouth, really - and has scooted his chair perpendicular to Craig’s, his bony knees knocking against Craig’s leg.

“I, well. Kinda, but… your smile. Mostly? I-is what I meant.” Tweek’s hand is on his knee, and then his thigh, and then he’s closer, their legs twisting together after he swivels Craig’s chair to face him. Craig’s eyes flutter shut, reflexively, when Tweek strokes the side of his face, the calluses of his inner knuckles catching, not unpleasantly, on his skin, and then his hair. “I wish you’d smile more. Your, Jesus ah, y-your lips are really nice.”

“Your hands,” Craig finds himself murmuring, before he even realizes it.

Tweek stills. “My hands? Sorry, I can stop touching you if y-”

“No! Don’t stop.” It’s louder, more desperate than he meant for it to sound. He feels the tips of his ears burn. “No. I just… Sexy?” It is beyond foolish, how he’s, fumbling with his words and leaving Tweek staring at him to spit it out and say what he means, for once, instead of the other way around. “Um. I mean, your hands are sexy, they’re actually really beautiful, and your arms are really, uh… and your hair-” Craig knows he is starting to babble, and that raw-exposed ache of vulnerability, of arousal and need and something that he knows at least resembles _love_ in his chest gnaws at him. _Fuck_ is he grateful when Tweek cuts him off with one of those beautiful hands, cupping the side of his face, fingers stroking along his jaw and his thumb, slow and gentle but undeniably _sure,_ not shaky or tentative, ghosting along his lips. Craig is opening his mouth, or allowing his lips to be parted, perhaps, _probably_ both, and he’s kissing Tweek’s thumb, licking it, and there’s a tiny noise he can feel coming from the back of his throat, even if the blood rushing through his ears means he himself cannot hear it, as Tweek drags his hand down, catching on Craig’s lower lip and trailing a scant amount of spit down his chin.

Tweek tips his head back, by the jaw, tender and steady while his fingers caress the side of Craig’s neck, and when they kiss, Craig is lost in the taste of coffee and nicotine and _Tweek._ He threads a hand through that unruly halo of silky blonde, his other fisting around the worn fabric of Tweek’s shirttails and pulling him in, so close that he wobbles on the edge of the chair they hauled up from the kitchen table. It isn’t like they have never done _this_ before, but when they pull away from each other, lips wet and intermingling breaths ragged, Craig knows that tonight, it will be _more_. From the flush across Tweek’s sharp-boned cheeks and freckled, upturned nose, and the way he licks his lip, gulps, and nods, as if to steady himself, he knows Tweek thinks it, too.

“You know what, we can totally finish this essay tomorrow,” says Craig, willing his voice not to crack, “If you wanted. Not that I want to spend the whole weekend doing homework or whatever, I just-”

“Yeah. Yeah, we totally can, _ngh_ , we can do it tomorrow and…” Tweek trails off, and he is looking at Craig, his glinting-wet mouth open just a fraction, and green-gold eyes flashing dark with desire. He pauses, and then his voice is hoarse, husky in a way Craig has never heard before, a far cry from shrill panic or rushed, spiraling anxiety, or even from the clear projections of whichever affectation he puts on for a character he is playing on stage. It is nothing but fucking _hot,_ if Craig is being honest. “Craig? May I touch your penis?” He slides his hand up Craig’s thigh, farther still, until he is mere inches away from what has quickly become a straining, throbbing hardness against the front of his blue-and-green checkered pajama pants. Tweek’s mouth twitches, like he’s biting back a laugh or, at the very least, a smile, but the way he kneads into Craig’s inner thigh and circles his thumb at the junction where his leg ends and his pelvis begins is calculated and confident and makes Craig jump, his hips jerking up but a fraction. He grins a little, too, but opens his mouth in an exhaled, silent moan.

“I am comfortable with that,” he manages to pant. Tweek shudders a little, whether from his words, or from the touch of splayed, trembling fingers underneath the hem of his shirt, soft grazes upon the dimples of his lower back that make both of them gasp, and pull each other closer still.

“Yeah?” Tweek’s hand is so, _so_ close, it would be but a inch, but a scant motion for him to just _do_ it, just touch him, and it’s all Craig can do not to grab his hand and press it palm-first onto his erection, but he finds himself reveling in the anticipation as much as anything else; the air around them seems to crackle, like their combined want and desire is causing electricity.

Tweek closes the gap. He thumbs the head of Craig’s cock, tentatively, through his pants, then runs a finger down his length, teasing. Craig jumps, twitches, his toes curl and his head tosses back, and he moans, “God, just… please.”

Tweek touches him and... fuck. He’s going to come in his pants. He’s going to come in his pants and Tweek is going to laugh at him, with his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly moving through a layer of thin cotton. Craig shuts his eyes, he breathes, he sings the Red Racer theme song in his head a couple times and steadies himself and breathes _again_. They’re kissing, now, and Tweek takes his hand and presses it against the front of his sweatpants. He’s so hard, he’s so _sexy_ that Craig lets out a pathetic mewl into Tweek’s mouth and just dives right in, under his waistband, fumbling and nervous but no less enthusiastic than Tweek was rubbing him.

Tweek pulls away. “Bed,” he rasps, “Wanna take your pants off.”

Craig is nodding, so quick and adamant that his bangs fall over his eye, and Tweek smiles when he reaches out to push them away, before grabbing Craig by the hand and pulling him to his feet. Their chests knock together when he stands, and he feels, for a moment, that Tweek’s heart is pounding just as hard as his own. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that. Get, um. We should get naked.”

It’s a scramble of kisses and touches and clothing thrown across the room before Craig finds himself on his back, laying on the bed, and Tweek still hovering near the desk. Staring at him, expectantly. Biting his lip.

“Can you turn the lights off, or whatever?” Craig asks, softly. Tweek does, but the room is still illuminated by strings of soft blue fairy lights he tacked to the wall above his bed, and glow-in-the dark stars that have been stuck to practically every inch Craig’s ceiling and walls since he was a child. They are still as bright as they were the weekend he spent meticulously mapping out makeshift constellations, and Tweek, watching him from the side of the bed, is an ethereal, celestial being among them. He’s just standing there, shamelessly, all long limbs and wild hair, skinny enough that his hipbones stick out but soft enough that his abs are only just visible; there’s a trail of hair, a darker blonde than that on his head that leads down to a patch of short curls around, oh god, around his _cock_ which is cut and pink and thick and _so_ hard. Craig’s head buzzes, his mouth fills with saliva with how goddamn _turned on_ he is and he _needs_ it. Needs him.

Tweek’s eyes roam up and down Craig’s body while he crosses the room. His gaze feels like lashings of fire and Craig is torn between wanting to cover himself up as best he can, and touching himself right then and there. He settles for crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I get on top of you?” Tweek asks, waiting for Craig’s nod before he does.

His body is sharp and soft and somehow feels even better than Craig ever thought it would. He wastes no time wrapping a hand around Craig’s length, and Craig does the same. Their legs lock together, their foreheads fall against each other and lips find one another in muffled groans.  “Your dick is really big,” Tweek whispers after a bit, plainly, into his ear, like it’s an observation rather than praise or astonishment, “It’s way bigger than mine.”

“Babe, you’re _hot,”_ he whispers into Tweek’s ear, making him gasp, “Your dick is _awesome.”_ And it is, it’s heavy and velvety and achingly hard in Craig’s hand, gushing more pre-come than Craig had ever noticed he himself produce which he swirls around the head with his thumb and uses to slick his fingers as he pumps his length slowly, at first, and then harder, quicker, twisting his hand around the head like he always did to himself while he was jacking off, and Tweek is shaking and kissing him, recklessly, and _copying_ him - with every stroke Tweek answers with one of his own in turn. Until, he pulls his hand away, until he pulls _Craig’s_ hand off, too, and they’re pressed together, cocks flush against each other while their hips try and find a rhythm, or _something,_ do they need a rhythm? It doesn’t matter, it feels good, it feels fucking amazing especially _now,_ because Tweek has kissed his lips and tongued a line from the corner of his mouth to his neck and Craig feels his legs wrap around Tweek’s thighs and his hands grasp at his back, and his ass, and he’s going to lose it, soon.

He loves when Tweek kisses his neck, and Tweek loves _doing_ it, placing light nips, long licks, slight presses of lips from ear to shoulder, but _this_ , it’s better than anything _ever,_ his open mouth migrating up and down in open, fucking _pornographic_ sucks and bites. He’s going to be covered in bruises, or, at the very least, spit, but Craig pushes aside any thoughts of how stupid he might look in a turtleneck or scarf because Tweek has found that spot where neck meets shoulder and his teeth are digging in, harder, more intense than ever before, only lifting his mouth to outline the shape of his bite with his tongue and, oh, god, _fuck._ What should be white-hot, sharp pain is instead something electric and exquisite. The hand that isn’t pumping his cock travels to the crown of his head, pulling his hair to expose more of his throat, and it is then that Craig moans, or screams, or _something_ , and it’s loud enough to make Tweek jump.

He pushes himself up, on his hands, the bit of hair that has fallen from his bun dangling in front of his face, and brushing against Craig’s forehead. “Ah, shit, man! Did I hurt you?”

“Yeah, I liked it,” Craig gasps, and there is a moment of sparked silence, Tweek propped up on his hands and staring right into Craig with blown-out eyes. It is as if they simultaneously realize that is a road down which they want, need to travel but it is too much, too soon, it’s too heavy and uncharted, and so Tweek licks his lips, nods, spits into his palm, and rolls onto his back. His hand is wrapped around Craig’s cock, tight, with a fucking _purpose_ and, god, it’s there, it’s - “Tweek, I’m gonna, _ah_ .” It’s heat and shivers and his back is arching and he’s touching Tweek, too, and he wants to come, he needs to, he needs to make Tweek come _twice_ as hard and he-

“C’mon,” Tweek murmurs, into his ear, placing a sweet, tiny kiss against his cheek, and it happens.

“Oh god baby oh fuck oh _fuck_ ,” Craig groans, babbling again, body wracking with spasms and toes curling and firework-flashes of light behind his screwed-shut eyes as he spills half into Tweek’s hand and half onto his own stomach. Tweek says something in a low growl, something dirty and _awesome_ before he follows in hot spurts. Craig doesn’t stop pumping him until he is twitching and gasping and swatting his hand away.

They catch their breath. Craig wipes his hand on Tweek’s stomach, and Tweek lets out a disgruntled sound before doing the same to Craig.

“Wow,” is all Craig can say, chest heaving in shallow pants as his shaggy hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. The stars above his bed have not yet lost their luster and are making the sheen on Tweek’s milky skin glimmer. He buries his face in Tweek’s hair and god, he smells so good, and it’s _everything,_ it’s perfect; it’s just him and this beautiful enigma of a boy who shoplifts cologne and plays the drums and snorts lines of Adderall, who understands Shakespeare perfectly, and hates his parents but loves cats and birds and Craig and guinea pigs, who panics and claws at his arms and rips out his own hair, who buys cigarettes from the goth kids but somehow still sings like an angel. It’s _him,_ Tweek, it’s _always_ been him and Craig feels like he’s going to burst, to dissolve into stardust when he realizes, right then, just how fucking much he loves him.

“Wow,” Tweek echoes, no less astonished. He nuzzles his face into Craig’s neck. “Okay, we should probably, like, ah, do that every day now, yeah?”

“I would be comfortable with that,” Craig drones, flatly, and it’s then that Tweek emits a tiny bark of a laugh, before dissolving into full-fledged giggles onto Craig’s chest. Craig shortly follows with sniggers of his own, and a smack of his extra pillow to Tweek’s head. That only makes Tweek laugh harder, so Craig does the only thing he can think of - he kisses him, closed-mouthed at first, until it isn’t and their tongues are tangling together and Tweek is running his along the front of Craig’s braces. As their bodies, still slick with come and sweat, roll and writhe together, and they feel each other begin to harden, lacking much of a refractory period like the horny teenagers they are, Tweek ends up pinned under Craig, this time.

“Let’s go again,” says Tweek, grinning up at him, heavy-lidded eyes shining beneath eyelashes that are long and lush but so blond they’re nearly transparent. The bun on top of his head is so close to falling undone that Craig decides he might as well fix it, and he reaches up to gingerly extract the elastic from his hair, which cascades onto the pillow like a fuzzy, silken waterfall.

“I’m gonna touch your penis,” Craig says, with a smile, and a lick against Tweek’s collarbone.

Tweek grins back. “I’m comfortable with that.”


	4. tweek, can i take a gander at your asshole?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling sequel! An awkward first time.
> 
> Tweek would rather be on top. Craig just goes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on another prompt by metrophobic on my sideblog. He always comes through with that good shit. I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Tweek would be ghastly at texting, and Craig would be the kind of dude who ends all his text messages with a period. Don't even deny it.

**friday, 5:46 p.m.**

 

lmao I told him no way!  
If they want milk and eggs filled, they should hire more people.  
Not my damn job.  
You should come work with me... we could make out in the coolers.

HAHAH  
Like my dad would ever Lee me have another job  
Let  
:( atlease there id get legal hrs  
Get to keep my whole paycheck

I know.  
Your dad sucks baby. I'm sorry.  
Can't wait until June when we're gonna get outta here.

Forever :)

Forever.

If we madeout in the cooler youd get fired  
Then you'd never et another job and we'd be fucked!!!!

Lol pretty sure I'd be just fine.  
Oh nooooooo Craig got fired from his job at the grocery store.  
When he was eighteen. NO HIRE LIST FOREVER!  
I'd make out with you every day  
Even if it got me fired.  
I'd press you up against the door and get down on my knees for you.

God ahhahah  
Ok  
HYPOTHETICALLY of course!?!??!  
I still dont want you gettin fired!!

Hypothetically of course, honey.

Hypothetically i'd go the same thing for u :)

So like...  
Hypothetically.  
What would you say to me if I asked to take a gander at your asshole?

WTF CRAIG DUDE  
whwat  
?????!?!?

HA.

???

PAYBACK IS A BITCH, TWEEK.  
Got you on the long con bitch!!!

asdlfffjdjks WHAT!

I mean. You came outta left field with all that oh can I touch your penis stuff  
And then you fucking seduce me.  
It's only fair.

Oh!  
OHHHHHHH hahahha  
I remember that now!  
When we were little  
Dude like how fd up is it that pcp as asking usj those ?s when we were 10!!!!!

God, right?  
Hypothetically speaking, though...  
Okay NOT hypothetically.  
Ok I'm just going to ask you, can we?  
We've done everything else. I'd like to do that.

U want to have sex???  
With me!!  
Like........  
in the butt.

OMG. lol.  
I mean yeah, that's the idea.  
I love you so much and I'd make you feel good.

O.O  
Um  
I'm gonn have to think about that??

That's fine, baby.  
<3  
Take all the time you need.

* * *

 

**saturday, 1:02 a.m.**

(attachment: 1 image)  
Ready for u

WHOA wow holy shit babe. Fuck.  
Wow....this is a surprise.  
I'm not complaining! Love it.

(attachment: 1 image)  
Wanna see more?

God yeah.  
Take them off for me.

(attachment: 1 image)  
;)

Mm.  
Touch yourself.

(attachment: 1 image)  
Like this?

God mmm. Jerk off for me.  
I wanna touch you. I wish I could touch you right now.

Yea???  
(attachment: 1 image)  
want this dick?

Hell yeah.

Want you  
(attachment: 1 image)  
I wanna be inside you

What??  
That wasn't what we talked about.

I wanna do it  
I wanna fuck yoj  
You

What?  
Really??

Yea so bad please????

You know I'd never hurt you and you don't have to be scared, right?

lol I'm not scared :P  
Just thouh about what you said  
M I wanna fuck you I wanna top  
Be in you make you beg

Ohhhh wow haha.  
What's up with you, talking like this?

You don't like it

Never said that.  
I don't not like it.  
It's just not like you, is all.

Urbnot mad?

No, baby. I'm definitely not mad.

(attachment: 1 image)

Ohhhh.  
God.  
You're so fucking hot.

Tell me yo want me

I want you so, so bad.

I'm gonna bend you over make you scream  
(attachment: 1 image)  
look i made a mess all over myself

OH.  
Okay wow.  
Babe that's SO sexy.

I'm so dirty  
(attachment: 1 image)  
Lick jt up Craig

Ohhhhhh my god. Yeah I will, you know I love that.  
All of it. I want all of it, I want to swallow it all.

I know  
Cumslut.  
I'm goin g to bed ily night

Love you.  
Good night <3

* * *

_Holy shit. What the hell?_

Craig's heart pounds. His mouth is dry, hanging open in shock and surprise, as the kind of deep, burning arousal he felt the very first time that Tweek wrapped a hand around him, through threadbare pajama pants two years ago positively consumes him. It's as if his entire body is throbbing from his cock outward, raw, aching waves of need rippling down his thighs, through his shins to his toes and the soles of his feet, traveling up through his clenched abdomen and heaving, pulsing chest. Underneath it all, however, is something close to panic. It feels like his stomach is inside his heart and like he's about to puncture a hole through his lower lip with how hard he's sucking it into his mouth.

 _What the fuck. What. The_ fuck.  _Was that._ He scrolls up through their text conversation, gaze lingering on each picture of Tweek. He's laying on his bed; illuminated by the soft white of his bedside lamp, his pale skin glows in stark contrast to the hunter green of his sheets. The first picture is angled so that his face is visible - his wide, green eyes and long, freckled nose and flushed cheeks and his  _mouth_ (that mouth Craig wishes were on him,  _now),_ shining and pink with his tongue peeking through his teeth - along with the rest of his body, hand splayed upon his hipbone with the tips of his fingers only just darting underneath the waistband of the boxers in which he sleeps. The view goes lower, progressively; they grow more lewd, and explicit, his hand wrapped around his erect cock, tip shiny with gobs of pre-come. And, that's always one of Craig's favorite things to do, to lick him, right there, to lap up the viscous salt of his arousal before taking him into his mouth, slowly at first, and then deeper, and faster, and then all the  _way_ until he's spilling into the back of his throat, or all over himself, or - as they'd tried only once, but Craig would more than love to repeat - on his face.

He feels his cock twitch, strain against the front of his boxer briefs. They feel entirely too tight. He scrolls down - Tweek, sucking on his fingers. Tweek, gripping the base of his erection. Tweek, abdomen covered in white streaks. Tweek, smiling as he smears his orgasm across his chest. A soft, involuntary moan escapes Craig's lips.

 _He called me a cumslut. What the actual_ fuck,  _Tweek._ He exhales, slowly. It's not like he's incorrect. It's not like he shouldn't expect him to say something like that; it's not like  _any_ of this should be much of a surprise. He thinks about how Tweek likes to thread his hands through his hair while he's taking him into his mouth, and hold him there until he coughs and sputters. How he comes the hardest when he is beneath Tweek, when Tweek presses against him with slender hands wrapped around his wrists while his lips and teeth and tongue work against his neck and shoulders in sharp bites and lingering sucks. How, once, Craig found himself pressed face-down into his pillow while Tweek drove his erection in and out through Craig's pushed-together, lotion-slick thighs, sliding against his balls, his hardness. How, during that, Tweek had to put a hand over his mouth when he moaned loud enough to wake up the entire house, an act which Craig found thrilling in and of itself.

"He wants to fuck me," he finds himself whispering aloud, astonished and soft. 

 _I_ _want him to fuck me._ He gulps. He slides his hand against the front of his underpants, taking a moment to grip his cock, but doesn't stroke it. He remembers that his parents are gone this weekend, that Tricia had come home high as a damn kite not two hours ago and is currently downstairs, emptying the contents of the fridge into her face and watching a trashy reality show, something about wedding dresses, on full blast.  _I'm gonna try it,_ he decides. It isn't as if he hadn't pressed saliva-slick fingers against his entrance before, or against the swath of skin between his balls and asshole. It isn't as if he hasn't been tempted to do more, his own nerves always stopping him from proceeding. He licks his lips, rises to his feet, and pads down the hallway to the bathroom without bothering to dress himself.

The shower is hot enough to turn his skin an angry pink, but that's how he's always liked it, steam billowing out of the shower and overtaking the bathroom as to fully cloud the mirror. He exhales in relaxation has he steps in, water hitting his back like a massage. He shampoos and conditions his hair, quickly. He spends extra time washing his body, massaging the soap against his hole for long enough that he starts to gasp, and contemplates Tricia's five-blade razor hanging from a hook on their shower caddy. Should he shave? Tricia would be pissed, not to mention tease him mercilessly if she found remnant ass-hairs stuck inside of it, and maybe even tell their parents that he and Tweek were finally  _fucking_. He curls his lip in revulsion at the thought of his dad, well-meaning but lacking boundaries, lecturing him about safe sex. He'd probably go above and beyond, but in the worst, most awkward manner possible, handing Craig a stack of trashy Cosmo articles, or something.  _Way to be, Craiggo! Never figured ya for a bottom, but good for you!_ Nope. No _way_. Better not. Besides, Tweek has never complained before, so he decides to hold off, at least until Tweek says something, or requests him to shave himself smooth. 

Thoughts of his odd family are typically an instant boner-killer. However, his cock remains rock-hard because what he thinks of more than anything else are those  _pictures._ The inside of his mouth feels wet, ready, like if Tweek were there right now, he'd give him the best blowjob of his  _life_ before letting him...  _oh god._ He exhales a short, moaning breath before squeezing a glob of conditioner into his hand, and turning to face the water.  _No reason to be nervous, you know what to do_ , he thinks. And, he does. It isn't as if an eighteen-year-old gay man wouldn’t  _know._ He's done his research, a lot of it.  _Relax,_ he thinks, and he braces himself against the shower wall with one hand, as he slides the other down his back, and between his legs.

It feels weird. Weird, but not  _bad,_ or anything. It's supposed to be about two inches in, the prostate, right? Two inches in and  _down_ , he remembers, and it doesn't take him too long to find the small gland inside of him and - oh. Holy shit. Holy _god_ Christ Jesus sweet Mother Mary and all that is holy how had he gone this  _long_ without trying this out? "Fuck," he mutters, as he spreads his legs further still, so his feet are balanced on the far edges of the tub where it begins to curve. There's a white-blinding flash behind his eyes and he needs  _more_. After a few tense, yet mind-blowing moments of similar prodding, he finds himself falling to his knees, right in the shower, ass in the air as jets of water pound down upon his back. He fists his cock in his free hand, frantically, thrusting back into his finger -  _fingers,_   _plural,_ he adds another; it's momentarily unpleasant but then quickly  _not_ , not at all, and he's coming before he even  _knows_ it, mouth moving in silent moans, silent prayers of thanks to whatever entity  _gave_ him this because it's fucking  _incredible._   His eyes snap open in time for him to see the last of his orgasm washed down the drain.

He gets up, to shaking feet. He washes his hands, with shampoo - better safe than sorry. He dries off, avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror. He can feel how hot his cheeks are burning, and thinks that if he has to  _look_ at it, he might very well burst into flames right there. When he's back in his bedroom, he finds a pair of underpants, black boxer-briefs, and falls into bed. His bed feels amazing, cloud-soft, like a hug, and he melts into it, bonelessly, eyes feeling immediately heavy.

_Well. This is definitely happening._

He has always figured, for one reason or another, that he'd be on top - _but, why should I,_ he thinks. Was it purely from an expectation? Had it stemmed from years of increasingly inappropriate artwork shoved in their faces that largely featured a stoic brunette holding a twitching, nervous blond against him? Was it from the myriad of inappropriate sex talks they'd received from people in various positions of leadership, who always assumed Craig to be the guide, the protector, the one who simply  _had_ to take charge? Did it  _matter?_

_Does it?_

"Fuck your expectations," he mutters to himself.

Sleep finds him quickly, but it is fitful. He tosses and turns as he sweats and dreams of the familiar weight of a lanky, freckled blond on top of him; but, this time, it's more. It's heat and a stretched fullness, and the feeling of something miraculous, something finally falling into place. He wakes up, now and again, moonlight streaming through the space between his curtains, and it is almost as if he can smell him, in the room with him, right there and then. Like his coffee-cologne-boy-smell has permeated his room, his  _life_. He never, ever wants it to leave.

 

Upon waking, there is merely a wet patch dotting the front of his boxer briefs; he is surprised he didn't come in his pants, that he didn't touch himself during the night. After whooshing away his morning phone notifications - mostly snapchats from Clyde and Jimmy, and a slew of junk emails - he checks the time, which reads 10:17, clears his throat to rid his voice of as much husky sleepiness as possible, and dials the first number in his favorites.

Tweek picks up on the first ring. "Hey."

"Mm, hey babe," Craig murmurs, knowing he still sounds tired.

"Just wake up?"

"Yeah." He glances out the window, and it's snowing - lightly, though, not nearly enough to prevent Tweek from walking over. "So um. Good morning?"

"Good... good morning, Craig," Tweek replies, bemused, then anxious. "You never  _call_ people. What's going on? Agh, are you okay, man! Are you-"

"I'm fine. I..." He exhales. "Okay."

There's a fumbling noise on the other end, like Tweek came close to dropping his phone. "Okay what!"

"You know.  _Okay._ You can..." He gulps, and rubs his sweating, trembling hand on his comforter. "You can put it in me."

 _"Wah!"_ He hears a scampering, a string of ragged breaths, and a then the slamming of a door. "I had to go upstairs! My mom made me pancakes and we were all eating. Craig! Jesus...." Tweek laughs, just a little; it is breathy and short. "Really?"

"Really."

They share a nervous exhale through their respective receivers. Then, both speak at once.

"So, agh, where-"

"When do you-"

They laugh, and Craig goes first. "Can we do it in my room? I mean. We had our first time there. Our  _other_ first time. I want this to be... y'know." He's grinning from ear to ear, and chuckles.

"Special?" asks Tweek, his tone teasing. "You're  _such_ a romantic. That's so gay, Craig."

"You're putting your dick in my ass, it's extremely gay," he deadpans back, causing Tweek to giggle again. "Listen, uh, my parents are gone and Trish has been so stoned all weekend that she won't even notice you're here, so..." He pauses, hoping Tweek will interrupt him, will fill in the blank, but, when he does not, Craig continues with, "So, um. If you wanted to come over and. Y'know. Do this? We can."

"Yes!" Tweek nearly shrieks, then clears his throat. His words come tumbling out, rushed and stammered. "Um. Totally. Y-yeah. But, oh god, just let me make something up with my parents because I'm supposed to work and I'm, agh, I'm totally not going  _now_. I just, ah, Jesus I'll... I'll call you back. Give me like ten minutes to talk to them? M-maybe an hour or two to get over there?"

Craig's heart leaps. "Okay. Love you," he adds, somewhat weakly.

"I love you too."

* * *

 "I..." Craig is staring at the floor. They are perched upon the foot of his bed, still in their jeans and sweaters, thighs pressed flush together and fingers interlaced. "I prepared."

Tweek's back stiffens. "Prepared!?" he yelps.

"Prepared," echoes Craig, as he nods toward his bedside table, where an uncapped bottle of lube is sitting upright, next to his lamp, "I cleaned up, and I... fingered myself so I'm, you know... ready." His ears are burning, his chest is heavy and his cock is  _begging_ to be released from the confines of his jeans. "I didn't shave, though, so if that's a problem..." Instead of finishing his sentence, he squeezes Tweek's hand.

"No," Tweek replies, "No. Not a problem at all." Tweek rubs his thumb in a circle upon the softness between Craig's forefinger and thumb. Out of his peripheral vision, Craig notices him staring, with lidded eyes, blonde eyelashes fluttering. He turns, and their eyes lock. "Are you nervous?" Tweek asks, in a mere whisper.

"Absolutely," answers Craig, without a hint of hesitation, "Let's get undressed."

They peel each others' clothes off between kisses. Tweek is hard and hot in his hand, leaking. Tweek's hands shake when he reaches the fly of Craig's jeans. Sucking Craig's lower lip into his mouth and worrying it between his teeth seems to steady him; he lets out a small groan into Craig's mouth as he palms his bulge, then unzips him, delving into the slit of his underpants to release his aching erection. Their lips don't leave one another as Craig hoists his hips upwards as his pants are shucked away, ending up below Tweek.

Tweek stills, and gazes down at him. His hair falls over one eye, and Craig reaches out a hand to tuck it behind his ear. "Do... do you want me to finger you?" His voice is strained, but curious and excited.

Craig shakes his head. He licks Tweek's ear, and makes his voice low and sultry, like he knows Tweek loves. With how Tweek shivers and pants, Craig is sure it has the desired effect when he says, "Just add more lube. Put it on your dick, and put some on my ass." Tweek complies, quickly, almost dropping the small bottle in his fumble to slick both of them up as fast as possible. He moans and screws his eyes shut when he applies a palm-full to his own cock, pumping it a few times. Craig gasps in kind when he feels the liquid drizzle onto his ass, and Tweek's fingers massage it in.

"Okay," Tweek says, and kisses him. It's brief, but they keep their foreheads together, and eyes fixed upon one another.

Craig has never, in the years they'd been touching penises with their hands and mouths, and groping each other on the bleachers and in the hallways between class, and exchanging covert, filthy text messages while sitting next to each other in a crowded room, he has absolutely  _never_ seen Tweek this aroused. His mouth hangs open, slack-jawed and wet; his chest and shoulders are blossoming with red patches akin to a sunburn, his normally bright, light green eyes are nearly blackened with arousal. His chest heaves in heavy gasps. He arches an eyebrow as he locks eyes with Craig, breaking eye contact for but a moment to position the tip of his hardness against Craig's hole. He looks  _evil._ He looks amazing, sexy,  _so_ beautiful. And, underneath it all, he looks just a little bit scared. 

"Are you ready?" Tweek hisses. His hand kneads against Craig's hip.

Craig nods.

"Want me to put it in?" he asks. The small hint of mockery in his voice only serves to make Craig want it  _more._

"Yeah," Craig whispers, "Go slow, okay?"

It doesn't hurt. It's a stretch, and a fullness, and at first it's odd, maybe a little unpleasant, but it's nothing near  _painful_ , and when Tweek pushes in just a  _little_ more it's a jolt, a firework - Craig lets out a pitiful, yet aroused, noise, something like a squeak, a sound he'd  _never_ imagine himself making, and Tweek emits a low, long moan, right into his ear. His tongue licks a line up and down Craig's neck, and then he's  _in,_ all the way.

It's perfect. They look at each other, both trying to say everything with their eyes that their lips cannot at this time form.

"I'm gonna move, okay?" Tweek pants, quickly.

Craig grips his back, twists his legs around him, feet resting on the back of his thighs. "Yeah. Yeah, okay; do it."

It's a few cursory, tentative, shallow thrusts, and then faster.  _Better._ "Fuck," Tweek moans, and his body stiffens above Craig. He gives a shudder, and then a yelp, and then he thrusts in  _deeper,_ harder, and he starts to spasm and shake and his lips crash down upon Craig's his tongue delving deep, so deep, so  _close,_ god,  _I feel so close to you,_ and Craig is pretty sure he said that aloud but he doesn't  _care_ because it's incredible, it's everything, more than he could have _ever_ wished for, nothing anywhere near the first-time horror stories he's heard. But, then Tweek has stopped. He's panting, gasping, and Craig feels a curious sensation, a wetness, a fullness - something more than the copious amounts of lubricant they'd used.

" _Agh,_ oh god. Oh  _no,"_ he groans, "I'm sorry." His head flops against Craig's shoulder. "Like, shit, thirty seconds, I couldn't... Sorry, I'm..."

"Dude... did you just come?"

Tweek screws up his eyes and crinkles his nose as he runs a hand down his face, embarrassed. "Nnnnnnngyes?" His chest is heaving, his thighs are twitching against Craig's feet, and his brow furrows, almost as if he's about to cry, or panic, so Craig pulls him down, before he can say anything else, and captures his mouth in a soft, open-mouthed kiss.

"It's ok," Craig murmurs against his mouth, pulling away for but a moment before peppering several more small kisses against his lips, cheek, and jaw. "First time. Don't be embarrassed. You..." Craig bites his lip, and nods to compose himself. "You can finger me, if you want? I'm already open."

Tweek's eyes light up like it's Christmas, and his mouth turns up into a small, somewhat shy half-smile. "Okay," he says, softly. Both gasp when he pulls out, at the loss of contact, of connection. The feeling of Tweek's come dripping from his ass is strange, but not at all unpleasant. Knowing it's there, knowing that Tweek  _put_ it there, claimed him, causes Craig's eyes to glaze over and his mouth to stretch into a satisfied smile. He moans, low, through his closed mouth as Tweek slides his fingers back and forth against his entrance, collecting enough of his own slickness to lubricate his hand, which he wraps around Craig's cock. Their mouths meet in a slow, languid tangle, strings of saliva keeping their connection together even when one or the other pulls away to breathe. He can't help but thrust upwards, into Tweek's hand, then wiggle his ass down as soon as he feels fingers pressing against his open, dripping hole. It's  _almost_ enough, the two fingers that Tweek inserts inside him to replace his cock, until it  _is,_ until his fingertips are pressing, milking against him and his hand tightens around his cock. Tweek's mouth is on his neck, biting him hard enough to leave marks. Craig moans his name when he thinks of how he will wear them, proudly.

Everything goes white. Everything shakes - his body, the  _world._ He hears his own voice, coming from somewhere far away, mewling and moaning and pleading before his ears ring and his heart stutters, and Tweek's tongue is in his mouth, then his fingers dipping into his open lips, between his teeth. He closes his mouth around the intruding digits, and, as he licks his come from his boyfriend's hand, it feels like he's  _still_ coming, like his entire being is reverberating. Tweek kisses his forehead, his hair, his cheeks.

"That, um," Craig gasps, feeling like he can barely get the words to happen, "That wasn't the hand that was _inside_ my ass, was it?"

Tweek snorts. "No! I'm not stupid." He captures Craig's lips with his own once more, groaning as they share the taste of Craig's orgasm. They collapse against each other, panting.

"Next time I'm gonna last," Tweek says, adamantly, as Craig strokes his back. They lay together, wrapped around each other beneath a sea of plastic stars, the setting sun casting an orange glow on Craig's room, on their naked skin. "I promise."

Craig smiles into Tweek's hair. "We have all night, babe."

**Author's Note:**

> feel free and shoot me a request! rachhells-lair dot tumblr dot com for nsfw things. my main is @super-craig-is-gay.


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